


Coming For To Carry Me Home

by hannahncakes



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Backstory, Childhood, F/M, but luuurve ofc, helluva lot of angst, non romantic relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-20
Updated: 2013-10-24
Packaged: 2017-12-09 01:23:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 14,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/768344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannahncakes/pseuds/hannahncakes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The Doctor will find your daughter and he will care for her- whatever it takes."<br/>Hope is so infrequent and so fragile. There was no way he could save her, nothing he could do to change the hardship she had to endure, but he was damned if she was going to have to do it all alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Seven

Mels stumbled quickly forward, her movements erratic and her breath raged. She felt like she'd been running forever to reach this derelict old building. It was cold, dark, the wind whistled through the gaps in the boarded up windows and she thought, somewhere in the distance, she could hear the scurrying of rats but she tried to put that out of her head as she leaned heavily against the wall, throwing her one possession- a tatty rucksack- down beside her. At least it was dry and she was safe. Anything was better than another night on the streets, too scared and cold to go to sleep.

Her head span slightly and her stomach growled with hunger but she ignored it, knowing there was nothing she could do. Not right now. Right now she'd just have to survive the night. One more night. She wasn't sure how long it had been now since she'd eaten properly but she knew it was days since the little food she'd kept in her backpack had run out. When she'd been travelling through the cities she'd been able to steal from market stalls or even shops when she'd gotten up the nerve. There'd been so many people she could easily slip through unnoticed but here it was different. When you were a seven-year-old black child travelling alone through rural England people stopped and looked. People watched. And these weren't people that wanted to help, they were people who wanted something to gossip about, someone to judge. She was, as ever, all alone.

Not that this bothered her, not really. She'd never known anything but alone. Well, when she was a baby, she thought, she must have not been alone then. Then she must have been with her mother, maybe her father too. They might have held her and sang to her and she wouldn't have been cold or hungry or frightened. That was why she was here, stuck in this old creaking house in the middle of nowhere with an empty stomach and tears that she had to blink away quickly before they fell down her face. That was why she'd travelled half way across the world and risked her life more times than she could count. She was here to find her mother. To find Amelia Pond.

That was all she knew about her. Her name. From that she'd found an address and hopefully soon, hopefully tomorrow, she would be able to find her. Once she'd had a picture of her mother. It was in the room they'd kept her in in America. A picture of a smiling woman with red hair. She wished more than anything she still had that photo. That was the only way she'd known her mother was real and not just a story told her like so many of the other stories- a childhood filled with secrets and lies. But her mother was real and her mother was good. And Mels knew that if only she could find her then she would make this all better. She'd become like the children she saw in the streets- smiling and laughing and holding on to the hands of their parents. She would be happy and she would be loved.

Breathing deeply Mels sat down and pulled her rucksack towards her. From it she pulled a raggedy blanket and wrapped it tightly around her. She lay her head down on the lumpy bag and pulled the hood of her jacket tighter around her face. She bit down hard on her lip trying to stop the tears that came so often. She was so tried and so cold but she knew sleep would bring her no respite: only dreams of the monsters she'd once know. Angrily she hit her bag. She needed to stop this. Her mother wouldn't want her like this. She needed to be tough, she needed to be brave and courageous like the girl in the stories she made up. Sometimes she did that. Mels would pretend her name was actually something exciting like Destiny or Faith and that she was a daring daughter of pirates who had been sent to rescue their stolen treasure. Or else she'd be a fearless princess tackling a dragon. Or even a good witch on the run from evil wizards. But, no matter who she was, she was never afraid or unhappy. And she always managed to save the day- to beat all the odds and live happily ever after.

Mels sighed as she lay her head back down. She wanted to believe so badly that she would end up like one of the girls from her stories, that it would all be okay in the end. She pictured her mother's house: a warm fire and a bed of her own. Maybe even a teddy to snuggle up to at night. And a mother to read her stories and plait her hair. She smiled at the idea as she tried to close her eyes, to force herself to rest before she'd have to move on again at sunrise. As she did, though, something caught her eye. It was a piece of paper, just a piece of paper, but she could have sworn it wasn't there a second ago and she knew, somehow she just knew, that it was meant for her. Gingerly she stretched out her hand and pulled it closer: reading the few words that were scrawled upon it.

_You are not alone._

She blinked quickly and re-read the words. She knew that this should worry her. Normally just the thought of some stranger being around would make her flee but there was something there, something unsaid, that made her feel safe. Instinctively she knew whoever had sent this meant her no harm. Smiling slightly she clutched the piece of paper closer to her as she closed her eyes and prayed for a dreamless sleep.

The Doctor watched quietly from the window as the little girl finally settled down for the night. She was so small, so fragile. He feared one good gust of wind would carry her away forever. He'd watched her for so long now but this was the first time he'd dared make contact. The first time he'd felt she'd needed it enough. He'd seen her overcome great obstacles, travel entire countries, but he'd never been truly worried about her before tonight. Even at seven-years-old she'd always seemed tougher than he had ever been. And yet tonight she lay here, only a few towns from where he parents lived, and she had the air of someone who might not get up in the morning.

That's how he knew he had to contact her. He'd decided to do this long ago now. When he'd lost River he'd known he had to go back to help her younger self. Not to interfere, never to interfere, but merely to look after her. To give her hope when she had none and a friend when she had no one. He could never be seen, of course, never interact with her directly because the second he did her programming would kick in and she would want to kill him. No matter how kind he was or what nice words Amy had said about him- that was what she was programmed to do. That was what they had programmed her to do. And he would never forgive them for it.

This little girl though, this tiny frightened creature who would one day turn into the woman he married, her he would forgive anything. Unconditionally and forever. That's why he'd sent her the note. There was nothing he could do, though he'd tried and tried to think of a way around it, to ease the pain she'd been though. That she would go through. He could never give her food when she was starving, or hold her when she was screaming and as she grew he knew he would not be able to give her the conventional family she so craved. So he had given her his words. The words that had once comforted him so when he had thought all hope was gone. He wanted always to be able to give her that small ray of hope. And he hoped that that would be enough.


	2. Eight

The Doctor smiled slightly as he crouched down on the grass, his fingers clinging onto the peeling paint of the windowsill as he peered into the small classroom cautiously. There she was, just like he knew she would be. He could see the teacher mouthing noiselessly and gesturing to the young girl with her hands deeply stuck into her pocket and her gaze fixed on a point at the back of the classroom, avoiding the eager stares of those around her. She was being introduced, being pointed out as the new girl and the other children were being asked to be kind and considerate towards her. A fate that, the Doctor knew, very rarely awaited children starting at a new school.

Especially not this child. He grinned as he watched her. She was so different, so young, but he could still see traces of the woman he knew so well and missed so much as she clenched her jaw and balled her tiny hands into fists. There was more fear than ferocity on her face still but he knew soon that would change- she would learn to hide her vulnerability because she had to, because she was a survivor. Yet here she stood just trying to look brave. Trying to look like she hadn't stolen that school uniform from lost property late one night, like she hadn't faked her school transfer papers and pretended to be her own mother on the phone. Trying to act like a normal child would on her first day of school but she wasn't worried about not making friends or being picked on in the playground: she was afraid of being discovered for who she really was (although she herself didn't know who or what she really was, merely that it wasn't normal- wasn't right) and being thrown out of school and away from the only thing she cared about: her mother.

He watched as the children clapped politely and the young girl sat quickly down at the vacant seat next to the small red-headed girl. The girls glanced uncertainly at one another as Mels roughly shoved her raggedy bag under her desk. A lump formed in his throat as he saw this first tentative interaction between the two women who would one day come to mean so much to him. It was strange because she was like the ghost of someone he knew but he was the one haunting her. Here he was, stalking through her previous life to try to help her, to make it as painless as possible but never being noticed, never seen. Always the movement in the corner of your eye that you thought you saw but dismissed almost instantaneously. He was to be her guardian angel. That was the plan anyway.

"So where ya from?" The voice of a young boy travelled on the wind across the playground from where he stood, in a circle with many other boys and girls, facing the new girl.

"Well I urm… London." Mels said boldly, her face scrunched up against the wind and her knees bent slightly. Ready to hit someone or run. Or hit someone then run.

"Yeah but where do ya live now? I aint seen you around!" The boy persisted as he moved forwards and the other children nodded in agreement. The small town mentality had been bred into them, it seemed, and they'd all known each other since before they could talk and new people were treated with suspicion- especially since the arrival of that strange Scottish girl.

Mels opened and closed her mouth quickly, trying to think of a convincing lie to make them leave her alone before she had to punch someone. Luckily at that moment there was a loud bang at the other side of the playground and all the other children turned and ran towards it. Apparently the only thing more exciting than a new girl was an unexplained loud noise. As they left Mels closed her eyes in relief and felt a heavy weight fall into her left pocket. Jumping slightly she reached into her pocket and pulled out something that had definitely, in no way, most certainly not been there a few moments ago. It was a key. Just an ordinary key attached to a wooden block but on that wooden block was written 53c Ironside Road and her heart jumped because she knew those words. She'd seen that road, that block of flats, every day since she'd arrived in this town. She'd stared longingly through those little windows and seen the families inside drinking cups of tea, watching the telly, dancing to loud music as she'd walked on by to whatever cold, draughty place she was spending the night. And here was a key to one of those very flats. A key that she knew, in the way she just knew these things, was meant for her and her alone.

As soon as the bell for the end of school rang out Mels ran out of the gates and down the roads she knew so well. Part of her wanted just to escape all memories of those children and their thousands of questions and the teachers who thought they knew so much more than her but a bigger part of her wanted to see if it could be true- to see if this key was something more than a cruel joke. It didn't feel like a joke. She associated this key with a feeling she got sometimes, of things she couldn't explain, of being somewhere safe and having someone look out for her. When she finally reached the block of flats, the ones that many of the residents of Leadworth would look on as shabby or common but to her seemed like more than anyone could ever want, she ran greedily up the stairs- not wanting to waste a second. Finally, finally, she reached the door with the brass numbers 53c on it and she pulled out her key and held her breath as she placed it tentatively in the lock.

It turned. It opened. Inside there was one small room and a door leading off to what she assumed was a bathroom. In the corner closest to her there was a fridge that was as tall as she was. Gingerly she moved towards it and pulled the door open. It was full to the brim with food that she'd never even heard of and her mouth watered just at the thought of it. For a girl that had been hungry for as long as she could remember this was heaven. After a moment she forced herself to close the fridge, to turn on the light and explore the rest of the room. In the other corner there was a chest of drawers full of clothes in her size. Nothing special, no dresses or frilly clothes she would turn her nose up at, but full of jeans and t-shirts and, best of all, school uniform. Then there was a bed. A bed for her- her own bed. It was small and clean and white and better than anything she'd ever seen and on the pillow was a small blue teddy bear, just waiting for her. The last thing in the room was a little table, covered with a blue and white cloth and two chairs sitting beside it. As she gazed at it, trying to take all of this new information in, she saw a piece of paper flutter slightly in the breeze she'd caused twirling around the place. She breathed deeply as she stepped forward to pick it up, the words jumping out at her before it even reached her hands.

_It gets better. It will get better._

The Doctor watched on his flickering screen on his TARDIS as she read his words and a tear fell down her cheek as she looked around her new room, a grin spreading across her young face. Happy tears. That was what he'd been aiming for.


	3. Nine

"Well, really, this is just unacceptable Melanie-"

"Melody." She corrected quickly as she crossed her arms tighter across her chest and sat back in the uncomfortable chair to stare at the man in front of her.

Over a year she'd been at this school. Seventeen times she'd been sent to the headmaster's office. And he still couldn't get her name right.

"Yes, yes. Melody. So would you like to explain what on earth possessed you to attack Todd Grimshaw in such a violent manner? Welll… Would you?" He folded his arms and raised one eyebrow as he stood there, towering over the small girl, and waited for a response.

Mels shrugged. She watched as he began to pace again and his mouth began to move. Threatening her, no doubt, discussing the fact that they had been here before and that she just didn't learn, that you couldn't just do things like that but she didn't care. Yes, she'd bitten the stupid boy and yes she'd kicked him in the balls and yes he deserved it and yes she'd do it again. Because he was laughing at her. Just like everyone did. Everyone in this stupid school, this stupid place. Everyone except Amelia but Amelia didn't count because everyone laughed at her too. He'd called her stupid and ugly. He'd said that she never washed and that she smelled. He'd said she had no parents and everyone hated her. And she'd wanted to cry but she didn't cry any more so she fought him and he lost so more fool him.

But she wasn't going to tell that to the headmaster because he wouldn't understand because he was stupid just like everyone else around here. She was stuck in a school being taught by stupid teachers who didn't know anything about the world, who hadn't been through half of what she had been through and yet still she was supposed to just sit there and nod and accept what they said and conform to their stupid rules about how to behave and what to say. She knew everything, there was so much knowledge running around in her head, and yet here she was being forced to act like some regular stupid kid in a school full of other stupid kids and equally stupid teachers. It was a wonder she hadn't hit them all.

"…If this carries on I will be forced to call your parents in Melanie. Do you understand me?" She tuned back in as he spoke his final, and predictable, sentence.

"Yes. Sorry. Won't do it again." She said curtly, her lips draw tight because whatever she may want to say to this idiot of a man she would never be able to because he knew he weakness. She could never let him, never permit him to find out. If he called and they weren't there or he went round and nobody was home that would be it. One false move and it was goodbye to the one good thing she had going: her relationship with her mum.

"Then you are dismissed." He waved his hand half-heartedly and she stood up, smiled falsely and left as quickly as physically possible. Before she got herself into any more trouble.

"Mels!" The call came from outside the door as soon as she opened it and Mels rolled her eyes.

"Not now, Amelia!" She shouted as she stomped away. As soon as she reached the bottom of the corridor and burst through the doors her legs changed from a stomp to a run and she ran and she ran until she didn't know where she was going any more.

She ran away from Amelia. Kind, sweet, troubled Amelia who was her only friend in the world and also happened to be her mother. She was teased too, an outcast like Mels. Maybe that was why they had the strong bond they did. And Amelia was strange, she was different. She wasn't stupid in the way everyone else was. But even Amelia with her imaginary raggedy Doctor and her lost parents could never understand. The nightmares. The monsters. The growing up beside your mother. The ability to defy death and become a new person. No. There was no way to casually drop that into conversation.

As Mels ran she found she was heading towards the local park. She normally avoided the place because she didn't want to mingle with any of the children from school but now, she supposed, with them all safely locked away in class rooms, would be the perfect time to go. She pushed open the creaky metal gates and looked down at her skin on her arm. Sweat beads were forming just below where her shirt sleeve was rolled up, the hairs moved gently in the wind. Inside her chest she could feel her heart beating, hear the ragged breath she was drawing.

"What are you?" She whispered to herself. "Are you even real?"

She didn't know. No one at school wanted to know her, that was for sure. They taunted her. Called her ugly. Made fun of her hair. Questioned her lack of family, lack of friends. And there was no one else to turn to, no one else to ask. Heavily she sat down on one of the swings and kicked angrily at the sand beneath her feet. Then she saw it, just as she had seen it before, a piece of paper taped to the metal frame of the swing. She bit down hard on her lip: terrified of what it might say.

_True beauty is on the inside._

_p.s. boys are stupid and you are cool._

She spluttered. She fought back a chuckle. Cool. That was one word she would have never used to describe herself. And yet here it was. As plain as the nose on your face. Proof that someone out there had chosen the angriest, loneliest, most messed up nine-year-old on the planet and wanted to be their friend. Proof that maybe, no matter what she was, she wasn't all bad.


	4. Ten

“Amelia, we don’t need candles. I keep telling you, this isn’t a séance!” Mels rolled her eyes at her friend who sighed and began putting away the candles that she had been carefully placing in a circle.   
“Fine, fine. Well if it’s not a séance and we don’t need candles then what do we need to talk to it?” Amelia huffed in reply as she folded her arms across her chest and looked up at her only friend sitting on her bed.   
They were dressed in their pyjamas, sitting in Amelia’s cold bedroom in her empty house attempting to have a sleep-over but these were no ordinary ten-year-olds and there would be no gossiping about class mates or doing each other’s hair here. Instead they were venturing into the supernatural, pushing the bounds of reality and generally trying to work out what had happened in their short lives to make them so different to everyone else.   
“Him.” Mels corrected quickly. “Not an it, he’s a him.”   
“How’d you know though, if you’ve never met him?” Amelia asked curiously.   
“Well it’s urm…” Mels bit down on her lip, thinking. How did she know? “I just know. He sounds like a him. And he wouldn’t be a girl. Girls are stupid.” She shuddered.   
“Hey, I’m a girl.” Amelia protested.   
“You don’t count as a girl.” Mels waved her hand dismissively. “You’re not like all of them.” She whispered the last word, as if talking about something too disgusting to name.   
“No, I suppose not.” Amelia thought of the other girls at school with their nail varnish and their giggling. She wasn’t like that. “But it could be… I mean have you thought it could be…” She swallowed, not too sure how to broach the subject. “It could be your mum.”   
“No.” Mels said quickly. She’d told Amelia, finally, after a lot of pestering and a rushed conversation that covered being alone and receiving notes from the great unknown, that she didn’t have any parents. Not any more. Amelia had understood. Of course she had. But the other bit, the complicated bit that involved currently being sat in the same room as her mother, she would never be able to tell her. She didn’t even understand it herself. “It’s not her. Couldn’t be.”   
“Okay.” Amelia agreed quickly. She didn’t want to push it, especially when she’d only just begun to find out things about her best friend. “So if we’re saying no to candles, how do we talk to him?”   
“Well he’s always just kind of shown up before, when I’ve needed him. With notes or with things I need so maybe if we just… ask?” Mels ventured hesitantly.   
“Right. Okay. Should we, like, close our eyes or something?”   
“Yeah that could work.” Mels nodded. “And maybe sit in front of each other? I dunno, they do that kind of stuff in films.”   
“Okay.” Amelia laughed as she clambered up onto the bed and sat cross-legged in front of her friend. “So I guess you should do the talking, since you’re the one who knows him?”   
“Yeah I suppose.” Mels swallowed hard. “Right. Close your eyes then. Urm here goes… I was just wondering if you could give me a sign, talk to us and show me and my friend Amelia that you’re… urm… there.” She finished lamely.   
“Are you done?” Amelia whispered.   
“Yeah. Do you think I should say more?”   
“No, no that’s fine. Shall I open my eyes now?”   
“Yeah, go on then.” Mels whispered back as the two girls opened their eyes. Cautiously they both looked around the room for some sign, some message meant just for them. The saw nothing.   
“He’s real, I swear!” Mels shouted as she jumped up off the bed, her fists clenched and her jaw tight. “I’m not lying he’s real. I’ve had messages from him don’t you dare call me a liar!” She breathed hard.   
“I believe you.” Amelia replied calmly, trying to sooth her in the way one would a wild animal.   
“You… You do?” Mels repeated in shock.   
“Yeah, of course. No one believed me about the Doctor but I know he’s real.”   
“Tell me about him again.” Mels pleaded as she sat back down beside her friend. Her trusting friend, her friend who understood.   
“He’s called the Doctor, just the Doctor and he has a blue box which can travel through time and he came to my house and we ate fish fingers and custard and he said he’d be back…” She trailed off.   
“But he’s not been?” Mels asked quietly.   
“Not yet.” Amelia held her head up. “But he will do, one day. I know it.”   
“Do you think he could be the same as my friend, the one who looks after me?” Mels asked excitedly, hoping to have something that bonded them together.   
“I dunno… Maybe.” Amelia looked uncertain. “I’m sure we’ll find out. When he comes back.”   
“Do you think he’d…” Mels began before quickly stopping herself.   
“Think he’d what?” Amelia asked.   
“Do you think he’d like me?” Mels asked quietly.   
“Of course! You’re my friend, aren’t you? We could all go travelling together, run away from this place.” Amelia grinned.   
“I think, sometimes, that he’s the only kind of man I could ever marry.” Mels admitted with uncharacteristic shyness.   
“Marry? You don’t even know him!” Amelia laughed. “And who says he wouldn’t want to marry me?”   
“You’ll marry a normal boy. A nice one who’s kind and safe. Who loves you. I could never be like that.” Mels shrugged.   
“You could have that, too. If you want that.” Amelia said kindly.   
“Yeah, I suppose.” Mels shrugged. “Well thanks, for tonight and that. For trying, and for believing me.”  
“I thought you were staying over?” Amelia looked confused.   
“I better get back, check no one’s broken into the flat.” Mels smiled as she pulled her coat over her pyjamas, grabbed her shoes and her bag quickly before Amelia could stop her. She knew she should stay but there was a panic rising inside her that could only be quelled by being in her own home, safe from the world. She needed to be somewhere where she knew she wasn’t crazy- that she hadn’t invented one of the only friends she’d ever had.   
When she finally got back inside her flat and closed the door behind her she stood against it for a long time, in the darkness, with her eyes closed. She didn’t do opening up, or conversations about boys. She felt a burning mixture of sickness and shame running through her at the thought of all those things she’d said, wishes she’d admitted to, feelings she’d had. And she swore that that would be the last of it. Then she turned on the light. On her bed, next to her blue teddy bear, sat a blue box. A blue box like the one Amelia had made but different somehow, newer looking and shiny. She knew it was for her. That it was something she would never tell Amelia about because Amelia wouldn’t want to know- she thought that the Raggedy Doctor was just for her but Mels new better.   
As she lay down on her bed she clutched her new present to her chest. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to imagine. That one day in the future he would come back, her oldest friend and Amelia’s imaginary friend, and he’d take them away. They’d have adventures together, be the best of friends. Maybe he’d even be able to fix it so they’d be properly like mother and daughter, with his time machine and all. They’d run away from this place, from their empty houses and lonely lives and they’d fly into the sky. Maybe they’d even get married. Maybe he was so magic he could fix her so she could be loved by someone, and could love them too. Maybe. She knew it was a lot to ask but it was a dream. A dream she was going to cling to with everything she had.


	5. Eleven

“So where we going tonight? Your house, mine or the park?” Mels asked as she linked arms with her red-headed best friend and together they strolled out of the school doors. Another day of hell behind them and an evening without adult supervision beckoned.  
“Well urm actually…” Amelia began nervously. “I’ve kinda said that I’ll go to Rory’s tonight.”   
“Rory?” Mels repeated in shock.   
“Yeah. Well, I mean he is our friend.” Amelia replied defensively.   
Was he though? They played together, sure, but mostly they played see-how-long-we-can-leave-Rory-before-he’ll-notice or let’s-try-to-lose-Rory-in-the-park. They often laughed at how needy he was, rolled their eyes at his constant pestering. They made him dress up as the Raggedy Doctor but wouldn’t let him in on the real story. She’d never thought he was their friend. He was nice enough, kind and wouldn’t hurt a fly. But she’d always thought it was just the two of them against the world.   
“Yeah. Yeah, ‘course he is.” Mels smiled shakily and Amelia let out a sigh of relief.   
“I knew you’d understand Mels. You’re the best.” Amelia hugged her friend tightly before she skipped off to meet the boy who was waiting at the gates for her.   
Rory grinned at Amelia and tried to hold her hand clumsily. Amelia laughed and punched him on the arm, telling him not to be such a girl. Mels let out a gasp as she nearly doubled over, trying not to collapse in the playground. That was the last thing she needed. But how did they not see it? Visions flooded her and she wanted to close her eyes to block it out but they were still there, etched onto the inside of her eyeballs. Stuck in her skull. Amelia and Rory. Holding hands. Sitting in a restaurant. At their wedding. Watching TV. Stepping into a blue box. Holding a baby. It was her. That was the picture she’d always had. Then it was gone and the visions kept coming. In a new house, a new place. They were still together. They were older. Then there was a boy. A boy and they were smiling. The boy grew and they got older and older. Happily. Together. A family. She hated them all. And she was nowhere. Nowhere. Nowhere.   
The word resounded inside her head as she ran home. Trying not to cry, trying not to throw up. Why was she such a freak? How could she see this, how didn’t they know? So he was her father. The father she’d never given a second thought to. Somehow he’d never figured into her plans, she’d always assumed he’d left, or never wanted to know her. It seemed the pattern. No one wanted to know her, no one should. But it was him. It was Rory. Kind, funny, sensitive Rory. No wonder she’d never thought about him, clearly she was nothing like him and never would be. Amelia, at least, understood her. Amelia had her temper and her knack of getting into trouble. Rory was so normal. He didn’t know what it was like to have dreams filled with spacemen, to long to run away. To have no family and be all alone. To want to be anywhere but here. He was the kind of boy who would live and die in this small town, never wondering what was beyond its borders. If he ever found out she was his daughter he would be repulsed. He would never want to believe he could make something so broken. That must be why they had the boy. A normal boy and a normal life. She could never fit into that.   
She was gasping now, shaking as she tried to fit her key in the lock. The dreams she’d built up, the idea of one day, one far away day, becoming a normal daughter to her mother, lay shattered around her feet. She’d been deluding herself. Of course she had to have a father. And her mother would love him, love him so much more than the daughter she barely knew. She could never have a family. She didn’t deserve one.   
Inside her flat, her sanctuary, there was a large cardboard box with a note on top. If she’d been thinking about it, if she’d been thinking about anything at all other than her own dire circumstances, she’d have been expecting this. He always sent her things, looked after her when she needed it most. And she’d never needed it more. The one thing she’d been clinging on to, the one dream she’d allowed herself to dream, had been cruelly snatched from under her. She wanted to be excited, to be hopeful that this parcel would take away all the pain, but she couldn’t muster any emotion other than despair. Still, she walked up to it and read the note. Because that was what she was supposed to do.   
Time can be rewritten.   
Tinkering helps. 

The Doctor sat alone on his swing under the TARDIS console, fiddling with the wiring. Next to him he watched a projection of the young girl- not really a girl any more, not a child he could sooth with teddy bears and new clothes. Not a child he could impress with witty words. So he’d lied to her. Time could be rewritten, yes. But he knew it wouldn’t be. He knew she’d never get what she wanted, never be held by her mother. Never have her father teach her to ride a bike. Never grow up knowing she was safe and loved. It would never be. And then she would lose them again and she wouldn’t even be able to cry because she was forced to hold it together for a far more selfish being: for him. But he couldn’t tell her this. Not now, when she was so young and there was so much more still to go through, so many more struggles yet to come. She needed something to hold on to.   
He watched as she dug through the box- pulling out bits of metal and plastic, different tools she barely knew the name for but could handle like a pro. She built a model airplane that flew in circles around her room, then she built a small metal bird that chirped and a cage for it to sit in. She adjusted them, made them better. She worked until her fingers bled but her tears stopped. And he worked alongside her, fixing bits of the TARDIS, upgrading old software. And they both tried not to think about the things that ran through their heads, all that future and all that pain. The last of the Time Lords and the child of the TARDIS. He’d never fully understood, until now, how very similar they were. How much he understood her plight. And now he’d give everything to be the only one suffering. But he couldn’t fix her any more than he could fix himself. All he could do, all he could ever do, was hope to distract her enough so she could make it through another day.


	6. Twelve

Mels walked down the street, scuffing her feet along the floor and kicking up a layer of dirt and grime as she did. Her hands were buried deep in her pockets and her head bowed against the oncoming wind. Her jeans were too short for her, her hair needed a good cut and she scowled at the world. No longer a child and not even a teenager, all the attitude and none of the street cred. At school she was 'trouble', in the real world she was ignored, pitied or feared. Depending on the group of people in question. They all agreed, however, that she needed fixing: that there was something very wrong with that Melody girl.

"Oi Melsybels!" A voice rang out in the silent dusk and Mels jumped involuntarily, cursing herself as soon as she did.

She looked up and swallowed hard, seeing a group of teenage lads in front of her, sitting on a wall, with nothing to do but cause trouble. They were a few years above her at school but this was Leadworth and everybody knew everybody whether they wanted to or not.

"Yeah? What d'ya want?" She tried not to let the fear catch in her voice, to stand so she added inches that weren't there to her height.

"Wanna know what a scrawny little brat like you is doing out at this time on **our** turf?" One of the boys guffawed as he jumped down, stepping towards the more-frightened-than-she-seemed twelve-year-old. He had a cocky swagger and chewing gum rolling noisily around his mouth and she wanted to punch him but she held herself back.

"This ain't your turf, this street belongs to anyone." She replied boldly, anger fuelling her confidence.

"What you sayin'?" Another boy chimed in, coming forward to join his mate.

"Yeah you think you own this place, little half-caste? Little dirty girl, need a bath do ya?" Yet another piped up and they all laughed. They laughed at her, laughed at the way she looked, the fact that she dared to walk down a road.

She seethed with rage. How dare they? How dare they call her names, victimise her because of the colour of her skin? She was no one's victim, especially not theirs. There was a battle going on in her brain as a gang of boys approached her, bigger than her, stronger too probably. Fight or flight. That was the question. Fight or flight? Her fists were clenched and her blood pumping as she bit down hard on her lip to stop herself launching at one of them. She wanted to beat them down, make them afraid, hurt them so they'd never _dare_ talk to her like that again. But something else prevailed. She realised that she was small and skinny and twelve and they were bigger and stronger and more numerous than she was. And so she ran.

She may be small and scrappy and not good at school and a bit of a trouble-maker but if there was one thing she could do it was run. She'd been running all her life and it had got her this far. And with her life there was no 'this far' being somewhere nice and warm and comfortable, no, 'this far' meant being not dead, not left in a gutter somewhere across Europe. Running was often all she had. So she out-ran them, she twisted and she turned down dark alleys until she finally saw a little café that was open on a street corner and hurled herself through its doors. These boys were bigger than her, bullies and vile human beings but they were still only teenagers and even if they found her they'd never pick a fight with her in a well-lit building in front of adults. That wasn't how it worked. So she slumped into one of the hard plastic seats and slid down, trying to hide herself from view, as she regained her breath.

"Here, this is from your friend." A bored-looking waitress announced as she ambled over to the table carrying a plate and a mug.

"What, it's what?" Mels panicked as she pulled herself up right: immediately thinking about the thugs who'd been chasing her.

"Sausage and egg sandwich with brown sauce and a cup of tea with three sugars. From your friend." She repeated, rolling her eyes.

"What friend? I don't have any friends!" Mels almost shouted as she pushed the food away, her stomach growling in protest as she did. That was her complete favourite and it was all she could do not to sink her teeth into it immediately.

"I dunno, do I? Weird looking guy. Just came in here a week ago and told me you'd be comin' in tonight and paid for your food." The waitress huffed. "Now do you want it or not?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'll have it." Mels said hastily as she pulled back the plate at lifted the sandwich greedily into her mouth, barely pausing for breath. Now that she knew who it was from, that it really was from one of her only friends, she had no qualms eating it. The waitress tutted and walked away.

As Mels wolfed down her food and slurped her scalding tea she felt almost relaxed. She knew she was safe here, knew she was cared for. A wave of tiredness that only feeling fully contented can bring on washed over her and she closed her eyes slightly, listening to the hum of the traffic and the waffle of other customers. That's when she noticed the music that filtered softly through the speakers to her ears. Other people could hear it (maybe, probably, definitely) but she knew it was meant for her alone.

_"Nothing's gonna harm you, not while I'm around._   
_Nothing's gonna harm you, no sir, not while I'm around._   
_Demons are prowling everywhere, nowadays,_   
_I'll send 'em howling,_   
_I don't care, I got ways._   
_No one's gonna hurt you,_   
_No one's gonna dare._

_Others can desert you,_   
_Not to worry, whistle, I'll be there..."_

She knew who this was from and that it was a message for her, to comfort her after the night she'd had, after that horrible encounter. And it did. Because she knew that no matter where she was, or what happened, that she'd have him looking out for her. But it also made her realise that she didn't want him to have to save her, she didn't want to be the girl who ran away any more. Things around here, things in her life, they weren't going to get any better and she'd grown soft under the knowledge that she had someone looking out for her. He protected her, gave her shelter from the literal and metaphorical storm and kept her fed, clothed, gave her strength to face the next day. But she couldn't, she wouldn't, rely on him. Not anymore. She had to teach herself how to fight properly, how to make people take her seriously. She was always told she was trouble, maybe now was the time to start being it.


	7. Thirteen

“Well, well, well... What do we have here?” Mels jumped visibly as the voice of her science teacher boomed out from behind her in an otherwise silent classroom. She quickly put her arms across the piece of paper she had previously been scribbling on to hide it from view. “Do mine eyes deceive me or is Melody Zucker actually doing work in my class? Have we witness a miracle?”   
“No… I was…” Mels stammered as she tried to hide the piece of paper under her desk but before she could manage it the teacher swooped down and snatched it out of her hands, nearly tearing it in half as he did.  
“Aww, isn’t that sweet. Melody was writing poetry.” He snipped sarcastically to the class as all eyes turned to Mels and she felt a blush rise up through her neck and burn into her cheeks. “Should we share it with the class seeing as you clearly consider this to be more important than the work on electromagnetics you’re supposed to be doing.”   
“No!” She was on her feet instantly, her heart racing “No, you can’t. It’s private and it’s-”  
“Well, maybe it’s the only way to get you to do any work.” He sneered.   
“Ask me.” She blurted out, glaring at her teacher with nothing but hatred. Just another stupid man convinced he knew more than her, knew all about her. He knew nothing. “Ask me anything. I know it.”   
“Okay then.” He smirked and she wanted to scream. Wanted to tell him what a hateful man he was, what a waste of oxygen. But he had something of hers, he had power over her and she couldn’t have that. So she held her tongue. “How would you make an electromagnet stronger?”   
“You could wrap the coil around an iron core, add more turns to the coil or increase the current flowing through it.” She replied quickly. “Another. Ask me another.”   
“What… What is electrolysis used for?” He frowned slightly, caught off guard by her correct answer.   
“To break down water into hydrogen and oxygen.” She replied without a pause. “And another.”   
“But how do you know this? You never listen, you never do the work.”   
“Because I’m smart. I’m very smart. But you’ve never bothered to find out because you thought you knew all about me and who I was and what I could do so ask me another question. A difficult one.” Mels growled, breathing hard and trying to keep her temper in check.   
“Fine.” He replied shortly, his lips pursed. He would not be spoken to like that by a child: especially not this child. “What is Kirchoff’s first law relating to electric circuits?”   
“At any junction in a circuit, the sum of the currents arriving at the junction equals the sum of the currents leaving the junction.” She replied in a bored voice. “Is that it? Can I have my paper back now?”   
“No, you may not!” He shouted, his eyes bulging. He didn’t know how she knew that, it wasn’t something she could have read in any of the books aimed at children her age. It frustrated him: angered him to be outsmarted by the little brat. “Now sit down!”  
“Oh it’s like that is it?” Mels sighed. “I was really trying to be good today as well. But fine, have it your way.” She reached forward and tore the paper out of her teacher’s hands before stomping across to the doorway.   
“Mels, don’t.” Amelia pleaded quietly as she passed her but Mels merely shook her head at her friend.   
“You’ll see the headmaster for this, you mark my words!” The teacher shouted.   
“Knock yourself out.” Mels spat in reply as she slammed the door behind her.   
XoxoxoX  
The Doctor walked silently behind the young woman as she stomped down the street. He was, as ever, invisible and unnoticed. Nothing but a flicker in the corner of her eye. Sometimes he wondered if it was his greatest penance: having to watch her life and never being able to talk to her, to give her a hug when she cried or laugh with her when things were good. Sometimes he thought it was his greatest reward to be able see her every day, to help her when she needed it. He watched her as she screwed up the ball of paper she held in her hand and threw it aggressively into the bin, wiping her face with her other hand as she did. He wanted to run over to her, to tell her that it would all be okay and that she was so much better than the idiots that surrounded her. But he couldn’t. So instead he waited there, frozen like a statue (and about as much use) until she went around the corner and he could retrieve the crumpled paper that she had guarded so fiercely. He shook with anger as he thought what this paper represented.   
Sometimes he really hated humanity. He loved it most of the time, adored the people and the planet but days like today made him sick to the stomach. He hated bad teachers. Teachers that abused their power, that belittled children. Poor, innocent, messed up children who needed nothing but love. And instead they received snide remarks, insults and criticism. Bad teachers were the worst aspect of humanity: people who were trusted to help and instead just poured their indifference on generation after generation of children. People like that made him want to rip the world apart, to take away all the good things they didn’t deserve. And those people seemed to be attracted to Mels, then to River, and that made it even worse. To see her fragile young self so relentlessly tormented by people who were worth a fraction of her made him so angry. To see her entire life controlled and made worse by the humans she came into contact with made him realise that the people of Earth, right now, were very lucky he chose to be the Doctor. Because for the sake of a crying girl, who had been hurt again and would never stop being hurt by vile Gods of fate, he could so easily become a destroyer. But he’d made a promise a long time ago, and it was one he intended to keep: no matter how difficult. So instead he smoothed out the paper he clenched in his fists and began to read.   
My mother never told me   
That life would be easy  
My mother never told me  
That people are kind  
My mother never told me  
That life was fair  
Or that good always wins  
My mother never told me  
That I would be beautiful  
That I would be loved  
That I would be safe  
Because my mother never lied.   
But I would give every good day  
And every happy dream  
To hear one lie  
And to see her smile.   
The Doctor gulped, his lip quivering as his eyes filled with tears he resolutely dismissed. It hurt so much to know how much she hurt. She had been through so much and there was still, and there always would be, so much more to come but she was still writing poetry. People who had given up hope, who saw no beauty in the world: they didn’t write poetry. People who were so broken by what had happened, who couldn’t see how they would make it to tomorrow: they didn’t write poetry. But here she was, broken and battered and bruised but still hopeful, still hanging on, still writing poetry.   
It was a testament to her mother and father, her friends through her early years, that she was like that. Many other people would be lost by now: their souls beyond the reach of anything good or kind. And if Mels (and later River) was anything she was always kind. Morally ambiguous and kind of trigger happy, yes, but never cruel, never spiteful. And it was his job to keep her this way. So he turned the paper over, pulled a pen from his pocket and stared at the blank sheet in front of him. He’d never been any good, in fact always been pretty rubbish, at poetry. He thought momentarily about popping back and getting Shakespeare to knock him one up but he quickly dismissed this idea. If it came from anyone else, was anyone else’s words, it wouldn’t work. It had to be him. This was his job. This was the only job that mattered now. So he began to write.   
Your mother never told you  
That you are special  
That you are good  
That you are loved.   
But just because something isn’t said  
Doesn’t mean it isn’t true.   
And things that are now  
Will not be forever.  
What today is a mountain  
Soon will be but a spec of sand.   
Now is not for lies  
About the good in every man  
But there is so much more   
That words cannot express  
So believe me when I promise  
That you are everything   
That the world cannot always be.  
The Doctor shrugged as he looked down at those words. He wished he could say so much more. Could tell her that one day, not in the way she wanted but in a way, she would be held by her mother- loved for the daughter she was. That one day he and her parents would be with her and her own dysfunctional family would make sure she never felt alone again. But he could never tell her that, was unable to reveal those particular spoilers. So he hoped that when he posted this back through her door later it would do. It was all he could give and he just hoped it was enough.


	8. Fourteen

"Oh, come on." The Red-headed girl pleaded as she jogged to keep up with her best friend who was marching on ahead of her. Their limbs were suddenly too long for their bodies, their ties were short and their skirts shorter. Their hair was pulled into strange styles that they thought reflected the latest fashions but somehow came off all wrong. Their awkwardness was written all over them: in ever smear of make-up, each strand of hair.

"No, Amelia. I'm not-"

"It's Amy." She snapped quickly, cutting her friend off.

"Sorry, Amy." Mels repeated sarcastically as she rolled her eyes. "But your 'cool' new name is not going to make me change my mind. I'm going home and that's the end of it."

"Please, Mels." Amy almost whispered as she stopped in the middle of the pavement.

"I don't want to!" Mels shouted in return as she turned back to face her friend, her only confident for so long, and breathed hard: trying not to be mad at her. "And I don't understand why you would want to either. They are all horrible bitches and the idea of voluntarily being in the same room as them-"

"But they invited me, Mels! They actually invited me to a sleepover and this is the one chance we've got of being part of the popular group-"

"No." Mels said flatly. "It's the one chance you've got. They don't want me, they didn't invite me. And I wouldn't want them to. I don't need their approval."

"But I need you. You're my best friend. I can't do this on my own… Please?" Amy asked quietly, desperately, in a voice so unlike her usual brash tones that it made Mels sigh sadly.

This was her best friend, her Amelia, her mother who had yet to give birth. She knew her more than she knew herself- was certain of her goodness, of her undeniable kind-heartedness. And then suddenly there was this new force, this Amy who wanted to fit in, who cared what people thought, who was too grown-up for their stories and their games and Mels had no idea what to do with her. But as she stared at her, trying to find some common ground, she knew she couldn't leave her, couldn't just walk away and make her go to this party on her own because she was still her best friend, still her mum- even if she didn't understand her right then.

"Fine." Mels sighed heavily. "Fine. But if…. No, when this turns out disastrously, it is completely on you."

"You are the best friend ever!" Amy squealed as she hugged Mels tightly before dragging her forwards.

Mels scowled. She scowled when they were walking to the party. She scowled when the most popular girl in the year opened the door, looked them up and down, turned to Amy and said 'oh, you brought that with you'. She scowled when everyone got given drinks and a snack apart from her. She scowled when they all paired up to paint each other's nails and she somehow got left alone. She scowled until Amy kicked her and told her to smile, at which point she painted on a smile so fixed it hurt.

"Oooh I've got the new issue of J17!" One of the girls announced, hours after they had arrived. Hours that had felts like years to the extent that Mels was now secretly planning inventive ways maim each of the horrid, vapid girls.

"Yay." Mels mumbled under her breath, her sarcasm missed on her peers. No one was paying her any attention anyways.

"So who wants to do the quiz in it first?" The girl gushed. She was blonde, kind of chubby, giggled too much. She wasn't particularly spiteful but just so caught up in her own world, her popularity and all that came with it, that it made her detestable to Mels.

"Oooh, me please!" Amy giggled and Mels almost scowled at her before she remembered that she wasn't doing the scowling thing anymore, because she was being Little Miss Happy, Little Miss Normal. For Amy. For her best friend who was giggling about a magazine.

"Okay then. So this is 'how to find out if your crush loves you back.'" The blonde girl explained. More giggling. Mels involuntarily rolled her eyes.

"My what? I don't even have one!" Amy laughed, trying not to blush.

"Of course you do. Tell us!" Another girl piped up.

"No, I really don't." Amy tried to laugh but she looked away at the floor, acutely aware of all the faces now staring at her.

"There must be someone, spill." Yet another voice chimed in.

"There's not… There's no…" Amy began to stutter.

"Why won't you tell us Amy?" The most popular girl, the one whose party it was, cut across her. All the other girls fell silent to listen. "Why are you lying to us when we just want to be your friends?"

"She said there's no one." Mels raised her voice and finally everyone looked at her. She could have told them all, told them the secret her and Amy rarely spoke about: how she felt about a certain boy. She could have spilled her best friend's closest secret and been immediately welcomed into the folds of the giggling girls. All would have been forgiven and they would have laughed together as Amy blushed and stammered. But she would never do that, would never betray her best friend: no matter the reward and no matter the cost.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realise we were asking you. What business is it of yours anyway?" The girl snapped, glaring at Mels.

"She's my best friend." Mels replied through gritted teeth while Amy stared at the floor.

"You fancy her more like!" The girl laughed cruelly. "You're such a weirdo, bet you're a lesbo too!"

"Well that is wrong on so many levels." Mels muttered under her breath before she continued. "So just because I'm a "weirdo" that automatically makes me gay does it?"

"Oh my God, she's not even denying it!" The girl shrieked in outrage. "Someone get her out of here now I'm not having her staring at me when I get changed!" Mels rolled her eyes at the stupidity of fourteen-year-old girls, at the stupidity of humanity itself.

"Fine. We're going anyway. We don't want to stay at your stupid party do we, Amy?" Mels turned to walk away and there was a moment, a moment that felt like a lifetime, where she looked down at her friend sat cross-legged on the floor and she had no idea what she was going to do. Mels held her breath and bit on the inside of her mouth to keep from screaming. She hoped this wasn't the moment when she lost her mother forever. It was too soon, there was so much she still wanted to do.

"Course we don't. This party stinks." Amy grinned and held her hand out to Mels who pulled her up. And then they were side by side, walking away arm in arm with shouts of "bloody dykes" following behind them. They laughed.

"Well, I hate to say I told you so…" Mels grinned as she looked across at her best friend, wondering how she ever doubted her. This was all she knew: this was all there ever would be. Her mother by her side, ignoring the rest of the world.

"Oh, shut it." Amy grimaced. "Admittedly it was not one of my better plans. Can we leave it at that?"

"Of Course." Mels laughed. "What shall we do now then? The night it young..."

"Go to the park and throw rocks at things?" Amy suggested.

"Now that sounds like a good plan."

The wandered towards the park they knew so well, laughing at the stupidity of the other girls and deciding that they really didn't need any other friends ever. Not when they had each other.

"Oh my God! There you are!" A voice rang out as soon as they stepped through the park gates and they both jumped before locating the source of the voice. "I've been worried sick!"

"What are you even doing here, Rory?" Amy asked in confusion as they walked forward to meet him.

"Well you sent me this and I've been waiting here for nearly an hour and I thought something awful had happened!" He continued in panic, waving a piece of paper around.

"Sent you what? I didn't send anything." Amy said in confusion as she snatched the piece of paper away. "Oh God, look. Mels is that-"

"Yeah, it is." Mel grinned as she looked down at the piece of paper which had the words 'the park. Come as soon as you can x' scrawled on it. There was only one person who could have written that.

"It's what? I don't understand." Rory whined.

"Looks like we've got friends after all." Amy grinned at Mels.

"I know: all these men interested in us. Whatever would the girls say?" Mels laughed.

"Who? What girls?" Rory piped up again.

"Yeah, shame we're a pair of lesbians isn't it?" Amy spluttered as she gave in to the laughter that bubbled inside her. The ridiculousness of the situation, of the whole night, suddenly becoming apparent to them both.

"You're what now?" Rory's eyes widened.

"Oh shut up Rory." Mels gasped through her laughter. "We'll explain it later."

"You will?" Rory asked hopefully.

"Yeah, one day." Amy grinned and she looked over at Mels as they both dissolved into hysterics once again.

Mels tried to hold herself up as she watched Rory sighing and shaking his head: out of the loop as ever. Then there was her mother, her friend, by her side as usual: sharing a private joke. And the man missing from the equation- the one who was still looking out for her, still watching over her. What else did she need? They were strange and a bit broken and not in any way normal but they were her friends, her family.


	9. Fifteen

“Fuck!” Mels exclaimed as she fell, face-first, onto the muddy ground. “Fucking, fucking, fuck!” She continued as she sighed deeply, flipped herself onto her back and kicked the offending gravestone that had had the nerve to trip her up.   
She sighed again, heavily, as she stared at the grey sky and felt the first few warning drops of rain splatter heavily upon her. There was no fight left in her. The initial anger she’d felt at falling had faded away as quickly as it had come and now she wondered if she would ever have the energy to move again or if she would simply lie there forever until the mud and water swallowed her. To become another unmarked grave- that was all she felt she deserved at the moment. To disappear back into the nothingness from which she came.   
There was a reason she was lying on her back in a graveyard contemplating life and death and origins. It had become something of a routine, almost an obsession that had started with a history project at school. A history project that she’d never handed in. Normally she didn’t had things in because she couldn’t be bothered, because they were beneath her or because she was too busy arsing about with Amy to take any notice of what the teacher was saying but this one actually caught her interest. It wasn’t anything particularly complex or original but it ignited a fire inside of her that couldn’t be put out. Her teacher had asked the class to create their own family tree, tracing their ancestry back through the generations as far as they could. As soon as she’d heard she’d known she would never be able to hand that project in and it angered her. She would never be able to ask her parents, her grandparents, her aunties and uncles about where she’d come from. She would never hear tales of past wars, lost children and first jobs. She had no family, no past she could trace.   
She hadn’t intended to let the idea, the injustice, consume her but then no one really plans these sort of things. She hadn’t meant to lie to Amy and Rory continually about where she was going and what she was doing but she soon found herself doing just that. Some journeys you had to make on your own. So every day since then she’d found herself in the company of the dead, traipsing amongst faded gravestones and trying to force them to spill their secrets into her greedy ears. But they never did. If there’s one thing the dead are good at it is keeping silent. So instead, each day, their names were added to her collection- climbing on her back and weighing her down until, eventually, she fell. She was so alone, more alone now that she’d ever been before. Because not only was there no one to here, now, to look after her in the way a family should but there was no one she could cling to in the past telling her that they knew where her short temper, her refusal to accept authority and her nobbly knees came from. And that it would all turn out okay in the end.   
She lay there in the rain and tried to hold it together. She tried to tell herself that just because she had no past that didn’t make her any less of a person but even as she thought it she dismissed it. A person is a sum of their past, their upbringing. They may refute it or they may embrace it but unless someone knows where they came from how could they possibly know where they were going? She lay there and decided she was no one, that she was nothing. She lay there as the sun slowly set in the sky and the stars came out to play one by one. She wondered where she was from, beyond her family. What made her able to defy death and change her appearance. She closed her eyes and added it to the list of things she would never know and reasons she was not a real person. She breathed in and out, she sighed a lot. Then, eventually, with no real reason behind it, she got up. She pulled her waterlogged trainers and her saturated jeans out of the mud and she propelled herself forward, one painful step at a time. Maybe it was survival instinct. Maybe she had just become as indifferent to death as she had to life. Either way she made it home.   
She pulled off her muddy clothes, leaving them strewn all over the floor and knowing that there would be nobody to pick them up for her and they would just remain there, growing filthier by the day and adding to the air of neglect. She stepped into the shower and cranked it up as hot as possible, so it scolded her skin as she tried to burn some feeling back into herself. She stepped out when the water eventually ran cold, her skin tingling and he hair dripping. She pulled on some pants and an old t-shirt as she walked out of the bath room, kicking any objects that were in her way. She took an exceptionally long time, for someone who was usually so observant, to notice the large leather-bound book that lay on her bed, begging for her attention.   
Tentatively she opened the first page and gasped. There was a picture of Rory’s dad beaming up at her, younger than she’d ever seen him with his arm around a pretty young woman holding a baby she could only assume was her father. These were her grandparents. Her family. Next to it was a whole page of tiny, compact writing but her hands greedily turned to the next page- knowing there would be time to come back and read it all later. Next was a picture of Amy’s aunt Sharon- smiling for once. She was surrounded by others- her brothers and sisters maybe. More writing encircled it, more things she could know. There were more pages, more pictures. Gradually the quality grew worse, colour faded to black and white but they were all there. Generation upon generation. Everyone she would never know, captured on film and documented. Proof that they were real. She felt a spark light up inside her- the one that had been missing for so long but it was simultaneously like someone had quelled the raging fire within her, letting her breathe at last.   
The Doctor watched as the smile crept on to her face- unsure if it was allowed or even welcomed but there it stayed. The rules he would break, the worlds he would pull down- just to see that smile. It had taken him years to collect the book. Years of travelling, of talking to the right people, of asking what their favourite colour was, how often they went dancing, what their opinions on bowties were. Years of tracking down distant relatives, of hearing their tales, of documenting it all without daring to change a thing. Miners in Scotland, bakers in Yorkshire. Further back- a lady in waiting in France, a chimney sweep in London. The baby born out of wedlock. The girl who only lived to eight. They were all there, all telling their stories. It was years he would never get back.   
As he watched her poring over it with such reverence for hours and eventually falling asleep with it clutched in her hands there wasn’t a second he regretted. Because how often do you get to do something that is purely self-less, to do a deed that would bring another so much happiness when there was nothing in it for you? Although, truth be told, there was always something in it for him. The same thing that it always was: to keep her happy, to keep her safe. He hoped she knew, as she read all about her history and her family, what an amazing past she truly had. Only strong, inspirational, kind people could have led to the creation of this beautiful, lost woman. One day she would know, and he would tell her, of her other family. Of the Time Lords and the TARDIS and all of the wonders that came with them but for now she needed to know about the wonderful humans that she descended from- that he’d met them all and they were all amazing. And none as amazing as her.


	10. Sixteen

“Mels, come on.” Amy sighed deeply as she sat down on her friend’s bed, dropping the book she’d been reading as she did.   
“No.” Mels replied quickly. “It’s stupid and boring and pointless.”   
“It’s your **future**.” Amy countered. “It’s not pointless.”  
“It’s a stupid exam, and yes it is.” Mels rolled her eyes and folded her arms like a petulant child.   
“It’s your GCSEs and if you fail them then you’ll never be able to get into college.” Amy continued sternly.   
“I don’t want to go to college.” Mels huffed, turning away from where here friend sat and walking to the other end of the small room before being confronted by a closed door and realising there was no escape. “Why would I want to go to another school when I’ve finally got a chance to escape the one I’ve been stuck in all my life?”   
“Oh I don’t know, because that’s what people do? What actual real people who want to get a job do.” Amy growled in annoyance.   
“I suppose I’m just not a real person then.” Mels sighed as she paced up and down, getting more and more anxious as she did.  
“Right, that’s it. I’m calling Rory.” Amy shook her head as she pulled her mobile out of her pocket. “Maybe he can talk some sense into you and get you to do some bloody revision!”   
“Oh God, don’t call the boffin.” Mels rolled her eyes as she tried to make her voice sufficiently sarcastic to hide her real emotions. _Don’t call him._ She begged internally. _Please don’t call him._ Amy was her friend. Amy was her everything. And although Amy got cross with her, frustrated or annoyed with her, Amy understood. So she let Amy know everything about her life. Rory, though, she pushed away. She teased him and acted as if he wasn’t worth her time because she was afraid she would (that she did) disappoint him. Clever Rory. Kind Rory. Rory couldn’t know how much of a fuckup she was.   
“Fine. I won’t. But will you **please** sit down and do some revision with me?” Amy pleaded.   
“Sure you don’t wanna just go get smashed instead?” She grinned hopefully. “I’m sure I’ve got a bottle of cider lying around here somewhere.”   
“Oh would just… Could you… I don’t even know what to do with you!” Amy flung her arms up in the air in defeat.   
“Don’t say things like that!” Mels snapped. “You’re not my-” She stopped herself mid-sentence. _You’re not my mum._ That was what she told herself when she fought with Amy- when her words hurt her. It was what she told herself when Amy was being so kind to her that she couldn’t stand it. It was what she told herself when Amy became protective of her. Because Amy was just being her friend- a friend was all she could be. A mother couldn’t be a mother before she’d given birth, before she’d even had sex. A mother couldn’t be a mother when she didn’t know she had a child. As much as she wanted Amy to be her mother she had to accept that she couldn’t be, not yet, not at this point. She was an echo of her mother.   
“Not your what?” Amy asked, her face creased in confusion.   
“Nothing. Doesn’t matter.” Mels mumbled as she turned away quickly to hide the shame creeping across her face. She absentmindedly began to turn the pages of the books that lay untouched on the table- the ones her friend had been trying to get her to read all day. A piece of paper fluttered out and landed on the floor by her feet. She sighed. She knew exactly what this would be. Some plea from him to get her to do her exams, to study hard and be a normal girl. She looked at it with disgust. That man wasn’t going to convince her of anything. She didn’t want to know what he had to say. It wouldn’t make any difference any way.   
“Bugger.” She muttered under her breath as she bent down to pick it up. Her curiosity, as ever, had got the better of her. Quickly she scanned the untidy writing she knew so well.   
_I’m not going to lecture you and tell you to take your exams, that they’re important or that you’ll regret it later. You know all that. What I will tell you is that I’m going to take every exam you take. I’ll let you know what grades I get when we’re done. So, come on then, Miss Cleverclogs. I bet you can’t beat me._   
Mels scowled. Then she grinned. She began to laugh.   
“What, what is it?” Amy asked, concerned at her friend’s peculiar behaviour.   
“I just… I think I’ll study now. And take the exams, I guess.” Mels smiled.   
“It was him, wasn’t it?” Amy asked angrily. “I try for weeks, months, to get you to take it seriously and one word from a guy you’ve never met and you’re all up for it. Is that how this works?”  
“He didn’t tell me to do it.” Mels said quietly.   
“So what did he say? What magic words did he use to make you change your mind?” Amy asked stonily.   
“He said he didn’t think I could do it.” Mels admitted with a smirk.   
“Well…” Amy said finally as she passed her friend a heavy book. “I cannot believe I didn’t think of that.”


	11. Seventeen

Mels shuddered as she looked across at the figure who sat sprawled on the end of her bed and she grimaced, wondering if she was really going to do this- if she could. But drastic times, she told herself, called for drastic measures. And this was a drastic time. Nine months. Not a word, not a sound, not a note, not even an unexplained movement in the corner of her eye for nine months. And there had been times when he could have helped, times when she could have used a friend so she had to find out, one way or another, if he was still there. If he ever had been there or if she’d merely descended deeper into madness that she’d originally thought. _Drastic measures_ she told herself as she hastily gulped down the large vodka and orange she’d poured herself as soon as she walked through the door.   
“You not going to offer me one?” The boy called cockily as he glanced across at her. Mels shuddered. Andy Martins. She despised him so. But then she despised them all and he was the easiest one to convince to come over.   
“No.” She replied quickly as she reached for the bottle to refill her own glass.   
“So if you didn’t invite me over for a drink, what did you invite me here for?” He raised an eyebrow lecherously and Mels fought the urge to vomit.   
“On second thoughts, you can have a drink.” Mels frowned. “Vodka or cider?”   
“Surprise me.” He winked and she rolled her eyes.   
The Doctor looked on at this little scene aghast. He’d seen what she was planning, known what she was trying to do, but he never thought she’d go through with it. Here she was, seventeen years old, and trying to make him jealous with some boy she hated. Well, she hated all the boys. That’s why he’d never thought she’d go through with it. He’d thought she’d plot with Amy and that would be it. Just a plan made in the middle of the night never to be thought of again. But he kept forgetting that she wasn’t a little girl any more (well, as much as Mels had ever fitted the profile of ‘little girl’ but there was no way you could even think of her in those terms any more) and she would get what she wanted. That was why he’d not made any contact, he’d been trying to give her space- to let her develop on her own and make her own choices. He’d been trying not to interfere and it had been working really well so far. He would let her do what she wanted, he told himself resolutely. But he knew this wasn’t what she wanted and letting her do something he knew she didn’t want in an attempt to show her he was letting her do what she wanted would be completely counter-productive.   
“Damn that woman.” The Doctor muttered as he grabbed River’s old vortex manipulator and input the co-ordinates for a few hours ago.   
“Right, okay.” Mels muttered grumpily as she pulled open the cupboard door where she kept the cider. As she did she saw an orange post-it stuck lopsidedly to the inside door.   
You can do better than him.   
“Nice try.” She muttered to herself but grinned as she pushed the door shut.   
“What did you say?” Andy asked.   
“Want ice?” She smiled falsely.   
“Yeah, whatever.” The boy grunted impatient.   
“Fantastic!” She beamed (her sarcasm apparently lost on said boy) as she pulled open her freezer and grabbed the tray of ice cubes. She wasn’t surprised to see another note stuck haphazardly on top but she was very pleased.   
Okay, I’m sorry. Get rid of the idiot and we’ll talk. Please?   
Mels smiled softly as she looked down at the cramped handwriting she knew so well. She had missed this comfort, this friendship, for so long and she finally had it back. Desperate measures worked.   
“Sorry, I’ve changed my mind.” Mels said brightly. “I’d like you to go now.”   
“What the hell?” The boy shouted as he jumped up and walked towards her in a way that would make anyone who hadn’t been fighting for their life for as long as they could remember terrified.   
“I said I’d like you to leave. Now please.” Mels pulled herself up to her full height and nodded towards the door.   
“You can’t do this to me!” He continued to shout as his face drew level with hers.   
“I didn’t do anything to you. I just made a mistake inviting you over, clearly.” She breathed. She would not get angry, she would not be afraid she would merely remain calm and be the bigger person.  
“You said we were gonna shag and now you’re just chucking me out. What the fuck is wrong with you?”   
“I said fucking what?” Mels growled, all sense of calm instantly lost. “I said no such fucking thing.”   
“You invited me over, on my own. What else am I supposed to think?” He shrugged.   
“That’s it. Out! Out! Get out now!” She yelled as she pushed him towards the door.   
“I can’t believe you led me on like this. You’re such a slut.” He shouted the last word as if it was the worst insult he could think of.   
“I’m a slut because I **don’t** have sex with you? You’re a moron. Goodbye.” She pushed him one more time and slammed the door behind him. She leant back against it and sighed deeply as she heard him continue to shout and swear down the hall.   
The Doctor looked on at this scene with anger, with disgust at humanity and little boys who thought they were men but mostly he looked on with pride. She was now, if she had not always been, the woman she would become. He berated himself for treating her like a child who needed to learn how to stand on her own two feet. The time for hand-holding and note-leaving were over. She deserved more than that. He would swoop in there now and tell her how amazing she was if he could but that wasn’t allowed. So he would do the next best thing.   
Mels kneaded her forehead hard and was just contemplating getting another vodka to try to dull the sense of shame that burned through her at being spoken to like that when she heard a noise. A buzzing coming from her bed. Dubiously she crossed the room and began to lift up her quilt, move her clothes and other piles of junk that she’d collected in that area until finally she lifted up her pillow and saw a mobile phone with a message flashing. She glanced suspiciously at it for a moment before greedily pressing the button to read the message.   
_I am really sorry, you know._ It read.  
 _I’m sorry. Who is this?_ She replied.   
_You know who it is._   
_Nope. No idea. Can you tell me?_   
_Mels. Stop being difficult. I’m trying to talk to you._   
_Oh so you want to talk now do you??_  
 _Again I say: I am really, really sorry._  
 _Why did you go away?_   
_I was trying to help._   
_It didn’t help._  
 _I know. Sorry._   
_You’re all I have, you know. You can’t just do that to me._  
 _You have Amy and Rory._   
_Amy has Rory and Rory has Amy._  
 _You’re all I have too, if that helps._   
_Lair._   
_Well. I have a blue box but apart from that- just you._  
 _Can I see it? (Your blue box I mean)_  
 _One day._   
_And you’re not going to disappear on me again?_   
_Never. Never ever._  
 _Promise?_   
_Cross my hearts._   
_I’ll keep you to that._   
_I’m counting on it._   
Mels grinned as she looked back on the messages. A conversation. An actual exchange with words not just feelings and notes and help. She finally felt like there was really someone out there who wanted to be her friend. He wasn’t just some trick her mind had made up. He was real. Really real and really cared about her. She lay back on her bed, suddenly exhausted from the day’s events but finally excited about tomorrow.   
_Goodnight. Sweet dreams Time Boy. X_


End file.
